


The Flying Turtle

by vigorouslyfemme



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigorouslyfemme/pseuds/vigorouslyfemme
Summary: Eddie frowned. “Did you really drive sixteen hours just to sexually harass the first stranger you came across?”“That’s what vacationing in your twenties is for right? Drinking, partying, making really shitty decisions, and flirting with every attractive person you come across!”(Or, Eddie and his dad run a small B&B in Florida. The rest of the losers stay there during a week-long vacation and rock Eddie's world upside down)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	1. Eddie Kaspbrak

**Author's Note:**

> First fic! Comments/criticisms are welcome and appreciated! This may not be good, but it sure was fun to write. :)

Eddie Kaspbrak fancied himself a good son. 

He had spent the past fifteen years of his life pouring his heart and soul into the small bed and breakfast (a cozy two-story cottage lovingly named “The Flying Turtle”) that his father bought in a spur of inspiration when they first moved down to the tiny town of Seaside, Florida when he was a kid. 

He took a gap year after high school, (which had now extended into two consecutive gap years, and was already heading towards a definitive third as well) in order to stick around and help out after watching the worry lines on his father’s face steadily deepen as they approached the end of Eddie’s senior year.

He forwent any semblance of a social life throughout school in favor of doing chores all day long: making guests breakfast, cleaning their rooms, washing their bedsheets, answering the same, dull questions over and over again (“what’s the wifi password?” currently led the charts, with “what time is check-out again?” following in a close second. Eddie knew this for sure, because he kept a tally going on the back of the guest list. His father, sadly, tried to participate, but often forgot to add his own additions to the tallies, resulting in a questionable accuracy of the results). 

He, at this point in his life, had become more capable with their taxes and finances then his father, having absorbed the relevant information rapidly with his sponge-like child brain, so he often found himself slaving over their records long into the night, his father hovering apologetically and bringing him cups after cups of fresh coffee. 

Eddie Kaspbrak had most assuredly grown to be an incredible businessman; timely, focused, courteous, and proud. 

He had also grown _quite_ goddamn done with the amount the late arrivals they’ve been getting this late in the summer season. 

Summer time was incredibly good for business for Eddie and his father, with people clambering down from the northern states in search of sun and sand that the nearby Florida beaches offered in surplus. 

Dealing with an upsurge of college kids who had no sense of timeliness, cleanliness, or personal space was not however, good for any indication of sanity that Eddie wished to keep a hold of. 

When the clock had hit 7:25pm earlier that night, five minutes before the check-in deadline, Eddie was ready to give up on the new arrivals they had been expecting and started packing up early. So of course, in a cruel twist of fate, it was in that moment that the phone started ringing. 

It was a young man’s voice on the other end, one member of the six-person party that Eddie had just spent the past three hours sitting at the front desk waiting on. 

Eddie listened to the kid, Ben, he introduced himself as, on the other end attempting to make himself heard over the chaos happening in the background of the phone call. 

_“I’m telling you Mike, turn here! You’re gonna miss the exit, man!”_ _“Rich, are you sure? I swear we circled past this part like twenty minutes ago.” “No, dude, look at that sign! Right there! Move over Billy, I-” “R-Richie I swear to GOD if you don’t get your dirty f-fuckin hand out of my face-”_

Eddie bit his lip, stopping himself from tearing the kid a new one as he listened to him apologize for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie sighed, though the warm bed and stacks of invoices calling his name from the back of the inn assured him that it was most definitely _not_ fine. “How long do you think it’ll be before you get here?” 

“Uh,” Ben raised his voice again as the sound in the background kicked up another notch ( _“You’re NOT crawling into my lap, Richie. Sit back down!”)_ , “probably ten minutes? Assuming we don’t miss another exit.” 

“Alright, I’ll be waiting,” Eddie stilled as he heard a slapping sound in the background of the call, followed by a shrill, exaggerated cry. Just to be safe, he quickly added on: “Try not to crash, by the way, these back roads can get kind of tricky later at night. ”

“Will do,” Ben chuckled, though it was with a nervous tilt that indicated crashing was not very far off from becoming a reality. “See you soon-” The call cut off abruptly, before Eddie could say anything further. 

He was very suddenly brought back into his own quiet reality, the only sounds accompanying him the ticking of the large grandfather clock sitting in the far corner of the lobby, and the noise of a television playing far off in the back living room, where his father was most definitely snoring through the beginnings of the 8-o’clock news. 

Eddie sighed, plopping his chin into his hand. He stared out the front window, watching as the sun began to set, slowly darkening the long summer afternoon. 

Thinking of the new arrivals coming, likely a group of close college friends looking to enjoy a beach vacation during their break from school, Eddie let himself, dangerously, slip into fantasies of what his life would be like if he had had a normal upbringing. 

_What if_ his father hadn’t made the spontaneous decision to buy the B&B fifteen years ago, saddling the both of them with an immense professional and financial responsibility for years to come. 

_What if_ his father finally stopped stubbornly refusing to hire extra help (with the loose excuse that it would ruin the cosy family “vibe” of the place) so that Eddie could finally start applying to colleges.

 _What if_ Eddie decided to say ‘fuck it’ to responsibility and instead just ran off to college at the first available opportunity, studying law, taking pretentious classes, making friends his own age, letting himself actually _relax_ for once. 

He probably could have gone to NYU on a track scholarship, if he hadn’t dropped the sport junior year to take up more shifts at the inn. 

Not to say that Eddie hated the B&B, by any means of the word. He loved the antiquated feel of the place, the way soft sunlight would waft in through the windows in the afternoons and illuminate the place like something out of a fairytale. 

When he considered the soft sand and crystal-quality water lingering just minutes away on the nearby beachfront, he felt his heart twinge with the cozy familiarity of a home he had known since his parents divorced when he was four years old, when he and his dad had packed up and moved as far from Derry as they could get. 

Staying with his father and working himself to the bone beat any possible hell that he would have lived though staying with his mother back in Maine. 

___________________________________

_While his father shoved the last remaining boxes into the back of their truck, Eddie stared down the front of his childhood home._

_Never before had he seen it like this, no longer illuminated with familiarity and comfort. Now that he was seconds from leaving, packing up and moving hours away, he could see the peeling paint and dingy exterior with complete, stinging clarity._

_“Go say goodbye to your mother, Ed.”_

_Eddie slowly made his way through the front door, heading towards the living room and peeking a head into the doorway._

_His mother was sat in her armchair, illuminated by the TV playing soap opera reruns endlessly in the corner. She stared at the TV, listless and lacking any recognizable human emotion on her face, drawn in on herself and looking smaller than Eddie had ever seen her._

_“Mommy?” She turned her head towards Eddie, expression cold, her eyes not quite focusing on his face._

_He nervously cleared his throat, taking a few steps forward before trying again; “Mommy, me and daddy are about to-”_

_Eddie jumped in surprise as his mother suddenly lunged forward from her chair._

_She grabbed both of his arms in a tight grip, pulling him close enough that their faces were just inches apart._

_“This world isn’t safe for you, Eddie.” Her eyes bored into him, alight in a stark difference from the empty nothingness they were just moments before._

_“M-Mom?”_

_“It’ll chew you up and spit you out. You’re too fragile, too sick. It’s not right. You need me, Eddie.” Her grip tightened, surely beginning to leave finger- shaped divets in Eddie’s flesh. He tried to squirm away, pushing at his mother’s looming figure ineffectively with his small hands._

_“Stop! Mom, that hurts!” Eddie cried out again, his mother’s hands finally releasing him. He landed back hard on the carpeted ground, letting out a pained grunt._

_Eddie stared at his mother as she leaned back into her armchair, her eyes clouding over once again as she turned away from him and back towards the television._

_Eddie backed away quickly on all fours, still staring at his mother in fear, breaths coming out in quick gasps. He reached into his pocket for his inhaler, before remembering that he had left it, stupidly, in his bag, sitting on the front seat of his father’s car._

_Eddie stumbled to his feet, running out the front door and down the steps. His father looked up as Eddie flew past him, taking a moment to wipe away the sweat that had collected on his forehead with the back of his hand._

_“Everything alright, sport?” Frank called out as Eddie wrenched open the passenger side door of their Jeep._

_Eddie ignored his father's shouts as he clambered into the car, yanking the door shut behind him and digging into his small backpack for his inhaler._

_He sucked back on the inhaler, curling in on himself. He stuck his face deep into the depths of his curled arms, refusing to look up again until the car had peeled away from the curbside, and traveled ten minutes down the road, heading out of Derry._

_Even then, he was too afraid to look at the road behind him, fearing that if he did, he might see his mother, barreling after them and reaching a hand out to grab Eddie and pull him back into the recesses of their old house._

___________________________________

Eddie didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about his mother nowadays. 

He knew his father would talk to her on the phone at least once a month, curt conversations that never lasted more than five minutes and never covered any even remotely substantial information.

His mother never once asked to speak to Eddie, and he wasn’t about to cross that bridge himself. 

Still, sometimes he would wake up in a cold sweat, late at night, imagining his mother crouched over him, her hands around his neck and her eyes, empty, boring into his soul. 

Eddie was sure if he stayed in Derry, he’d be dead by now. 

___________________________________

Eddie was abruptly brought back to reality by the sound of a car screeching into the small parking lot outside. He picked his head up from its perch and checked the clock. He had to give the kids credit, ten minutes on the dot. 

He steeled himself for the upcoming social interaction as the sound of feet pounding on the gravel rapidly approached. 

The door flung open, and a panting, grinning mess of a person stumbled their way into the lobby. 

The young man making his up to the front desk was incredibly tall and lanky, with at least a foot of height on Eddie. He was wearing a grey henley with a large cargo jacket over it (which failed to cover up a large, suspiciously ketchup-looking stain on the front of his shirt) along with ripped jeans. 

Eddie took in the sight of the person standing in front of him, acknowledging, almost subconsciously, that the boy standing in front of him was incredibly handsome. The high cheekbones and sharp jawline on his face were somehow not obscured by the huge blocky glasses that were currently sliding precariously down his nose. 

As attractive as he was, Eddie was immediately unnerved and annoyed watching the grin on the other man’s face grow larger and larger the longer he looked at Eddie.

He slapped a hand on the wooden surface, his messy bob of dark curls jostling from the force of it. “Helloooo~” Eddie felt one of his eyes twitch as the other man drew out the last vowel out to an aggravating length. “I’ve been told you’d be expecting me.” 

Eddie forced himself to look back down at the guest book in front of him, though he never really needed to refer to it for business. Its contents were so sparse that Eddie typically had the entire thing memorized. 

“Name?” Eddie clenched his fist harder around his pen as he heard the other boy huff out a breathy laugh. 

The frumpy boy in front of him let out a low whistle from the side of his mouth, “How forward. You gonna ask for my number next? Not that I’d be terribly opposed to giving it out.” 

Eddie’s head shot back up, his cheeks beginning to redden in spite of himself as he saw the other boy give him a quick once-over. He felt his eyebrows deepen impossibly further as he watched the Cheshire Cat grin on the other boys face grow another inch. 

He bit back the insults sitting precariously on the edge of his tongue, instead choosing to grit out: “I’m assuming you’re part of the Denbrough party that I’ve been expecting?” _for the past four hours,_ he tacked on internally. 

“Well, first of all, there’s no way in _hell_ I would be taking Bill’s last name in our fictional, proverbial marriage. But,” He cocked his head to the side, a cocky smile crawling back over his face, “you tell me, angel. ‘ _Is it me you’re looking fooor?~’”_

Eddie felt the thin thread of restraint holding him together fray and snap, curling his hands into tight fists as he prepared to launch a verbal assault on the asshole standing before him. He was stopped silent, however, when the door slammed open a second time with the introduction of another young man entering into the foyer. 

This one was slightly shorter than the messy-haired boy currently standing in front of him, though he still towered a few inches over Eddie. He had short brown hair that flopped softly to one side, and he wore a similar grey henley to the one the other boy, though his was instead covered with a soft-looking red flannel and was free of any food stains. 

The new arrival took one look at Eddie, taking in his face (which was probably, by this point, looking worryingly red and pissed off), before turning over to his lanky companion “Jesus Rich,” he huffed, “can y-you _not_ piss our host off within the first ten minutes of us b-being here?” 

He turned to face Eddie again, a sheepish smile growing on his face, “sorry ab-bout him. We tried to beat Richie here but he sped off. I know he isn’t one for great f-first impressions.” He reached out a hand to Eddie, “I’m Bill Denbrough,” his other hand reached up to cover the mouth of the taller boy ( _Richie_ , apparently) as he started to defend himself. “And I’m _also_ sorry that we missed c-check-in. The last twenty minutes of that drive were hell.” 

Eddie felt instantly charmed despite himself, and let his shoulders relax a bit from their precariously hunched position as he reached out to shake Bill’s hand. 

“That’s ok-” he began before immediately tensing again as the door swung open a third time, several more bodies piling through the entryway. 

The lobby was quickly filled to the brim with the arrival of three more boys and a single girl, all of whom were lugging along ratty duffel bags and blocky suitcases behind them. All of them looked equally tired and tense, obviously frayed from spending a long day in the car. One blonde, curly-haired boy, looking the most put-together out of the entire group, shoved a dirty army green duffel at Richie’s chest. 

“Aw, carrying my bag in for me, Stan? What did I ever do to deserve you?” Richie reached both arms out to the other boy, lips puckered exaggeratedly. ‘Stan’ pushed him away with one arm, sneering as he said “you’re lucky I didn’t throw it in the fucking street, you cretin. Carry your own shit next time.” 

The girl, outlined with a bob of wild red-hair and a bright smile, skipped up to Richie and Stan; followed closely by a stocky blond boy who seemed to be carrying both of their luggage loads combined (though he didn’t appear to mind at all, judging by the shy smile alight on his face). The final member, a handsome boy wearing a yellow hoodie, came up next to Bill and wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Uh,” Eddie began to feel nervous with the amount of people crowding the small room. They were probably starting to border on a fire hazard. His anxiety doubled as he spoke and all sets of eyes turned to look in his direction. 

He quickly looked back down at the guest book, calming himself by beginning the familiar routine of his check-in monologue, well versed with years of practice. 

“I just have a few things to go over with you guys before I can pass out keys. First, breakfast is at eight in the morning, if you miss it you’ll have to find food on your own. Everything is prepared by me and my dad, so decisions are limited. Please keep in mind that this is a bed & breakfast, not the Marriott.”

“Rooms are cleaned once you guys leave for the day, so try not to stick around too long lest you miss out on fresh sheets and toiletries. If you need ideas for things to do, we have some pamphlets to my left that outline some popular tourist destinations in the area.” Eddie took some comfort knowing that the other people in the room were only half-listening to what he was saying, some choosing to glance at the various pamphlets decorating the front desk, and others wandering around the lobby, pointing out the small nick-nacks and art that littered the room.

Eddie glanced over to Richie, the only one who had stuck around in his original spot planted next to the check-in desk, his speech stuttering when he noticed the other boy staring straight back at him, a small smile on his face that grew when Eddie’s eyes met his.

“Uh,” Eddie felt his eyebrows pinch together as Richie sent him a shameless wink, somehow going unnoticed by his friends standing nearby. 

Eddie squinted, looking the other boy straight in the eyes as he carried on, monotone, “your check-out time next week will be 7:30am. But feel free to leave _anytime_ before then. Just leave the keys on the desk.” 

Richie snorted at this, “trying to get rid of us already, dear? That doesn’t seem to reflect the “shining hospitality” promised on the website.” 

“I tend to be less personable to people who call customer service workers demeaning pet names.”

“Way more demeaning things I could be calling you,” the smug grin that crawled across Richie’s face sent Eddie’s blood boiling. “But how am I supposed to call you anything else if I don’t know your name?” 

Despite a voice in the back of his mind telling him _not_ togive his name away to slimy strangers he just met, Eddie felt his voice begin moving on its own volition, “if it gets you to fucking stop, then it’s Eddie. Kaspbrak.” 

Richie’s smile went from sleazy to surprisingly genuine in an almost charming transformation, the effect of which he immediately ruined by saying, “Nice to meet you, _Eds_.”

“That is very much not what I just fucking said-”

“Okay!” Bill cut in, clapping his hands together. Eddie blinked over at him, suddenly remembering the existence of the other five people in the room, all of whom were currently staring wide-eyed over at Richie and Eddie. 

“N-not to interrupt this interaction,” Bill continues, shooting Richie a questioning glance, “but we had a super long drive today. I think everyone’s ready to get to t-the rooms and settle down.” 

Eddie felt himself redden, how the hell did he let himself get so carried away? He had never had anyone, let alone a customer for god's sake, get under his skin like that. 

There was just something about Richie that triggered a ferally angry instinct in him, a notion that was emphasized by the fact that the other boy currently had no ounce of shame on his face, but rather looked quite proud of himself for helping to cause a scene. 

“S-sorry.” Eddie quickly reached behind him to grab three sets of keys off the back wall. 

“Here’s the keys, you guys have the last three rooms down the hallway,” he shoved his hand holding the keys out, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with the others. “My dad and I will be in the back half of the house. If there’s any problems, just knock on the door behind me.” 

The keys were one-by-one lifted out of his palm, Bill taking the last one and ducking down to breach Eddie’s line of sight. “T-thanks, Eddie,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. 

“No problem,” Eddie mumbled, busying himself with cleaning up the front desk. He was looking forward to curling up in his bed with his stack of invoices and purging any memory of these events from his mind. 

The rest of the group shouted out various thanks as well, filing out of the lobby and into their individual rooms. Richie lingered just a beat longer than the rest of them, shooting Eddie a wave and a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, before leaving as well. 

Eddie groaned, dragging his palm down his face in exasperation. He wondered when he lost the ability to talk normally with anyone his own age. Probably somewhere amidst sophomore year, when his dad had a small breakdown and Eddie started picking up more shifts at The Turtle, distancing himself from school and his peers. He didn’t like to think about that time in his life very often. 

Sighing, Eddie slammed the guest book shut, turning to head back towards his bedroom.

___________________________________

Hours later, having finished his paperwork and effectively turning his brain to mush, Eddie Kaspbrak was five seconds from sleep when he realized he had forgotten to take the trash to the curb.

So, like the fucking idiot that he apparently was, he violently threw himself out of bed and out the door into the front lobby. He was stopped at the entrance, impatiently tugging on his shoes, when he suddenly noticed a small light licker on from the steps of the front porch. 

Squinting, he made out two figures sitting on the porch, one of whom was currently lighting up a cigarette. 

Huffing, he realized that in his haste to finish check-in earlier, he had completely skipped over the basic rules of the place, including the one that said ‘no alcohol or smoking on the premises’. A minor misstep that could prove disastrous with a bunch of partying college-aged kids staying at the place. 

Eddie quickly finished shoving on his shoes, pushing open the front door and quietly stepping out on to the front porch.

Stepping closer, he could make out the figures to be Bill and Richie. Richie, _of course_ , was the one currently holding a lit cigarette with one hand, his other positioned comfortingly on the small of his friend’s back.

Bill was hunched over next to him, his head in his hands. Eddie suddenly heard a quiet sniffling sound coming from Bill’s direction, and realized, with horror, that he had accidentally walked out on a very emotional, and _very_ private moment between the two boys. 

Eddie took a step back, attempting to quietly maneuver his way out of the situation. A few steps from the door, however, he knocked into a potted plant that seemingly transported from the fucking abyss into the path right in front of his foot in an effort to completely ruin his life. 

The resulting crash of it falling effectively shattered any illusion of secrecy that he had tried to preserve, causing the other two boys to jump and spin in his direction. 

“Jesus christ,” Richie flung a hand dramatically to his own chest, “Eddie Spaghetti! I thought you were a fucking serial killer, man.” 

Eddie decided to ignore the strange nickname for the moment, instead simply stammering out: “Uh, sorry, I just wanted to let you know. There’s no, uh, smoking allowed on the grounds.”

“Right-o, boss man,” Richie whistled as he threw his cigarette to the dirt, stomping it out with a boot-clad foot as Bill attempted to subtly wipe at his face with a sleeve.

“S-sorry about that, Eddie.” Bill shot him a watery smile, causing Eddie’s stomach to twist in an even more guilty mess than he had imagined possible. “I think I’m gonna h-head to bed, then” He stood quickly, “Rich, y-you coming?” 

“Nah, Billy. I’ll be in in a few. Tell Stan to keep my bed warm for me!”

Bill led out a soft chuckle before heading back through the front door, not quite meeting Eddie’s eyes as he passed by.

“Um, goodnight then-” Eddie was about to turn around and flee back to the safety of his bedroom when Richie suddenly called out, because _of course_.

“Come sit with me, Eds!” he patted the spot next to him. 

When Eddie failed to move, instead squirming in his spot, Richie threw his head back dramatically, crying “come onnnn, Ed! What else could you _possibly_ have to get back to right now?”

 _Sleep,_ Eddie thought to himself. He forwent saying anything out loud, however, instead letting his body surprise him by moving to plop down next to Richie.

“So,” Richie turned more so his whole upper body was facing towards him, Eddie moving back a hair automatically in response. “What’s your story, Eddie Spaghetti?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie almost felt bad for the terse tone in his voice, not truly meaning to be so unfriendly. “And I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” It was just something about Richie that put him on defense, like he was teetering on the edge, risking a steep fall with any potential misstep. 

“Well _forgive me_ for trying to be personable!” Richie poked him in the side, “Come on, Eds. My sixth sense is indicating that you have some interesting stuffing inside you just waiting to burst out.” 

Eddie’s traitorous mouth started moving on its own once again, “I’m on break right now, from school. So I can help out with the B&B. I was hoping to eventually, uh, go to NYU for law school though.” 

“No shit!” The sudden exclamation made Eddie jump. “That’s where we’re all going!”

 _Of course,_ Eddie thought to himself, trying not to let the bitterness seeping to his stomach show on his face. Instead he cleared his throat, saying: “Ah, really? That’s a pretty far drive from here, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, sixteen fucking blissful hours. We needed to get as far out from New York as possible after the shitshow we all experienced last semester.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, waiting for Richie to elaborate. 

“Uh,” Richie fiddled with his hands, looking down at his crushed cigarette like he wished desperately to have it back, if only for something to occupy himself with. “Nothing too serious, just some family issues for some, relationship problems for others. A whole lot of drama that tanked some finals grades and, uh, led to near academic suspension for yours truly.” 

“Ah,” Eddie wondered, briefly, how privileged someone would have to be in order to let some petty college drama nearly cost them their degree. He flashed back, however, to the memory of Bill sitting on the porch moments before, crumpled and crying, and decided that he probably shouldn’t pass judgement without knowing the full story. 

“Yeah,” Richie chuckled half-heartedly, before looking back over at Eddie and smiling. “So, law school, huh? Makes sense.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I just mean,” Richie’s shit-eating grin grew a bit, “you pretty soundly established yourself as an argumentative little shit within my first five minutes of knowing you.” 

“First of all, fuck you.” Eddie cocked an eyebrow, “and second of all, being a lawyer isn’t just bickering.”

“ _Isn’t it_ though?”

“ _No._ Even if it was, from what I know, _arguing_ professionally takes a good bit of tact and intelligence. It’s not just spitting insults back and forth.” 

“Yeah, bet it takes a lot of _stamina_ too, huh?” Richie let his slimy persona come back in full effect, a lecherous smile climbing across his face.

Eddie frowned, “did you really drive sixteen hours just to sexually harass the first stranger you came across?” 

“That’s what vacationing in your twenties is for right? Drinking, partying, making really _shitty_ decisions, and flirting with every attractive person you come across!” 

Eddie ducked his head, hoping to hide his reddening cheeks, the current conversation between the two steering in a completely different direction than what he had originally imagined.

“So you’re not dating, uh, that other guy?” at Richie’s questioning look, Eddie searched through his internal inventory of names before finally landing on “Stan?” 

Richie barked out a sudden, loud laugh, making Eddie jump. “I’m pretty sure my man Stan would be dead in the ground before ever even _conceptualizing_ the thought of dating me.” 

Richie let out a final, soft chuckle before glancing over at Eddie, looking away just as quickly and setting his mouth in a thin line. He suddenly cleared his throat, suddenly more awkward than Eddie had yet to see him, before quickly adding: “Not that I’m opposed to uh. Dating. Men that is.” 

“I wasn’t just saying that stuff earlier to be an ass, just so you know.”

Eddie _wanted_ to ask Richie what made him think he needed to know that bit of information, but he instead found himself sitting silent, staring back into the other boy’s eyes. 

The sounds of waves crashing in the distance filled the silence between them, Eddie’s mouth growing dry as he noticed the dark green speckles in Richie’s eyes, which were currently boring back into his own with an electrifying intensity that Eddie had not _quite_ experienced in his twenty-one years of life leading up to this moment. 

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer, before Richie, surprisingly, was the one to break the connection, looking down.

“Ah,” Richie looked up again, a small, shaky grin on his face, not quite meeting Eddie’s eyes, “it was nice talking to you, Eds. I’ll, uh, see you in the morning.” And with that, Richie stood and shuffled his way inside, leaving Eddie, currently struck dumb and silent, sitting alone on the porch. 

He, after a few moments, finally managed to pull himself to his feet, making his way into his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

His head thudded back against his bedroom door, and he groaned as he imagined the absolute hell the next week would be. The group had only been here for a couple hours, and they had already proved to be more chaotic than any guests Eddie had ever experienced in the past. 

Interacting with people his own age often re-introduced the dangerous, wistful fantasies of his imaginary, normal life. It was a path he didn’t wish to keep going back down, lest he risk breaking his own heart.

He made an agreement with himself in that moment, to not himself get too involved with any of them, to limit himself to completely professional transactions, and to get through the following week unscathed, through whatever means possible.

Taking a single step to his bed, Eddie let out another groan, remembering the trash cans outside still waiting patiently to be taken to the curb.


	2. Beverly Marsh

Beverly Marsh fancied herself a good house guest. 

She, probably more than the average person, understood the value of a cozy, safe home. Nice places deserved to be treasured, valued, and upheld by those in proximity. If anyone was gonna mess the cute little B&B they were staying at up, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be her. 

She kept her room tidy, barely even unpacking save for a few necessities and her toiletry bag, leaving her duffel bag tucked neatly on an armchair sitting in the corner of the room. 

She, on this morning in particular, had set an alarm for 6:45am, much earlier than she was accustomed to ever getting up, so that she would have more than enough time to get ready and make sure everyone else was up in time for breakfast. 

It would be a cold day in hell (she was starting to question the validity of that phrase. Derry was known to get quite cold, quite often) before she made the owners of this B&B wait on her and her friends again. 

Ben, of course, was already up by the time her alarm went off, the early riser that he was. He was reading a book, curled up in his comforter, looking like an adorably cozy burrito. 

It was, quite frankly, the cutest fucking thing she had ever seen.

And Beverly decided to tell him as such.

“You are, quite frankly, the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Ben jumped only slightly at the sudden interruption to the calm quiet of the room, before looking down and offering her a small, bashful smile.

“Yeah? Uh, right back at you?” 

Beverly smiled at him before rolling over onto her back, stretching comfortably, feeling truly well-rested for the first time in a while.

Though she wished to just curl up and fall right back asleep, Beverly forced herself to slide out of bed, giving Ben a quick kiss before walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Emerging a few minutes later, she was amused to find Ben in the exact same position she had left him in, focused intensely of whatever architectural textbook it was that he was engrossed in. 

The sight of him, his sleep-ruffled hair softly illuminated by the warm morning light seeping in through the window, made Beverly’s chest ache in the best possible way. 

She thought of her friends, sleeping nearby, safe and comfortable and finally away from the problems that had plagued them this past year. 

The sounds of softly crashing waves and playing children rang in through the small crack of the window, reminding Beverly of the peaceful sea-side town that she and her friends had the luxury of spending the next two weeks in. 

It all added up to create such a perfect image of the idyllic life that she never would have imagined herself capable of living as a child.

___________________________________

Stepping out of her room, Beverly was pleased to see two others from her group already awake.

Mike and Stan sat next to each other on the couch in the otherwise empty lobby, both of their backs facing Beverly as she emerged from the hallway.

She snuck forward, quietly on her tiptoes. As soon as she was close enough, she swung both arms around Mike’s neck, sticking her head forward to give him a big, wet kiss on the cheek.

Mike jerked forward in surprise, only relaxing when he turned and saw her face in his periphery. 

“Christ Bev, you trying to give me a heart attack? At this hour?”

“Sorry Mikie,” she said. She stuck her chin up, flashing her teeth. “I couldn’t resist. You know I can’t control myself around you.” 

“Try not to kill Mike our first day here, Bev,” Stanley tucked his hand under his chin, looking much too put together for the early hour, his hair sat in an immaculate curl and his polo completely wrinkle-free. “At least let him enjoy the beaches a little first.” 

“Why, of course!” Beverly gave Mike a parting pat on the shoulder, before leaning back to stand up straight, scanning the rest of the lobby. “So, where are both of your lovely roommates? Not still sleeping, I hope?” 

“I made sure Richie was fully in the shower before I left,” Stanley squinted at his watch, and continued, “He was still half asleep at the time, though. I’m giving him five more minutes before I go and make sure he didn’t crack his head open on the tiles.” 

“And Bill, uh,” Mike scratched the back of his head, anxious. “Stuck back to give Georgie a call. To check on how things are going back home.” 

“Ah.” Beverly and Stan said in unison, meeting eyes over the top of Mike’s head. 

Before anyone could say anything else, the door leading to the rooms opened, Bill leading the way out, followed closely by Ben, who was carrying a near-comatose Richie, still dripping wet from the shower and haphazardly clothed, on his back. 

“What the hell,” Beverly started, at the same time as Stanley saying: “Huh. He’s not dead, right?” 

A mumbled voice, thick with sleep, fanned out from behind Ben, saying, “Aw Stan, you _do_ care-”

“Just barely.” Stan went back to looking bored, seemingly satisfied with the response. 

“R-richie refused to get up from the floor, and I can’t lift his tall ass b-by myself.” Bill said, flapping a hand at the two behind him. “So I got Ben.” 

“I’m on vacation! I shouldn’t have to be conscious if I don’t want to be!” Richie cried, the fight in his voice not reflected in his relaxed, outward appearance, save for a small kick from one of his legs. 

“Come on, you big baby,” Beverly cooed, patting Richie’s head lightly before wiping her now-damp hand on the back of his shirt. “Let’s go get some food in you, maybe that’ll help.” 

The six of them made their way through a doorway on the east-side of the lobby, leading into a medium-sized room with three small, round tables scattered throughout. One larger buffet-style table set against one wall, holding a few plates full of food, some bacon and fruit and toast with various jars of jelly on the side. A larger plate, labeled ‘pancakes’, was noticeably empty, much to Beverly’s disappointment. 

Ben deposited Richie into a chair at one of the round tables, sitting down next to him and holding out a hand cautiously to catch Richie if he started to topple to either side, while Stanley began pulling up more chairs to the table until there were six in total, eventually coming over to join Beverly at the buffet table.

Meanwhile, Mike and Bill stood near the entrance of the room, heads ducked close together in their own, private conversation. Both of their faces were noticeably pinched, Bill’s with annoyance and Mike’s with concern. 

Beverly and Stan together piled as much variations of food that they could fit on six different plates before carrying them precariously all at once over to their friends sitting at the table. 

Beverly set a plate in front of Ben, giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head before standing back up straight. By this time, Bill and Mike had joined the others at the table, Bill sitting on the other side of Ben, lost in thought and picking at the food that Stanley had just placed in front of him. 

Beverly turned to look down at Richie, who was still slumped forward in the seat next to Ben, his head resting face-down on the table.

“Um, excuse me,” Beverly said. 

She poked the Richie-shaped lump of a person, which simply gave out a groan in response. 

“I said _excuse_ me.” 

“Whaaaaat?” Richie whined, still not bothering to raise his head from the table.

“Don’t give me that attitude, I brought you bacon. All I want in return is to be able to sit next to my perfect boyfriend, who I love very much.” 

“We all love Ben! That doesn’t make you fucking special Beverly!” Even as he grumbled, Richie slumped over into the next adjacent seat, clearing a spot for Beverly to sit next to her boyfriend. 

“ _Thank you.”_

Ben sat silently through the entire exchange, an awkward smile on his face which indicated that he had no idea what the proper response for these sudden declarations of affection would be. 

Just as Beverly was about to sit, a crash from outside the room caused everyone at the table, including Richie, to look up in surprise. 

The sound had come from the curtained-off room connected to the one they were currently in, which Beverly had guessed was the kitchen, judging from the ‘employees only’ sign hanging next to the doorway. 

No one moved at first, seemingly waiting on someone else to make the first move. 

Finally, Bill broke the silence, saying, “Uh, s-should we go check out what that w-was-”

He was cut off by a loud groan of anguish coming from the same room, which caused the six of them to finally jump into action, running through the curtain into the other room.

They were all immediately greeted with the sight of a middle-aged man wearing an apron that said: “Kiss the Cook!,” and then in smaller writing underneath that: “unless you’re his son, that would be weird.” 

He had dark brown hair, trimmed neatly and graying at the edges around his ears. He had defined wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, like the kind that people get after spending a lifetime smiling and laughing more than the average person. 

To prove her point, the man was currently smiling wide, despite the fact that he was covered head to toe in what appeared to be flour. 

The boy from the front desk the night before was standing next to him, both hands clutched over his eyes in a textbook display of complete exasperation. _Eddie,_ she recalled him saying his name was. 

“Now, Eddie,” the older man was saying, “I _swear_ I don’t know how it happened this time. I was hard at work, frying my bacon when-”

“The flour just happened to _mysteriously_ jump out from the cabinet and _somehow_ explode, covering every inch of available surface, including yourself?” 

“Yes, exactly! I’m starting to seriously think that we’re haunted.”

Eddie threw his hands back over his face, groaning. 

“Why are you acting like that would be such a bad thing? Haunted establishments are making a _killing_ nowadays, what with all the true crime, cryptid, creepy-pasta shit that people your age are into!” 

“Dad,” Eddie stared at his father through the cracks in his fingers. “Please don’t start talking about creepy-pastas again. It’s way too early. I can’t handle it.” 

“Fine, fine.”

“Dad, just- go change your clothes, _please_. No one wants the fucking Pillsbury doughboy serving them breakfast. And, _Jesus_ , take a shower! I think I can see some inside your ears.”

“There’s no time for showers, my boy! We have some hungry customers waiting for the delicious, life-changing experience these hands have to offer!” 

Richie snorted, opening his mouth to comment on the obvious innuendo of the statement before Stan silenced him an admonishing slap on the shoulder. 

“Tell me dad,” Eddie started saying, as he put both hands on his dad’s back, pushing him out of the kitchen. “How the hell are you supposed to cook anything when you just dumped our last bag of flour all over yourself?” 

Mr. Kaspbrak held up a single finger, opening his mouth as if preparing to object, but promptly snapped it shut, as if he could feel his son’s glare burning into his back. “Point taken, son.”

He then turned to face the group, acknowledging them for the first time since they entered the room. He gave a sheepish smile, and said: “Sorry about this, kids. Feel free to any of the food already out there, but if you want pancakes you’re going to have to wait awhile.” He stuck his head back to Eddie, who had paused in his pursuit to push his father out of the room, too busy looking surprised at the sudden realization that there were other people in the room. “Son, you wouldn’t mind running to the store to grab some more flour, right?” 

Eddie withered a bit, looking nervous to be the center of attention, simply mumbling a small “No” in response. 

“Oh, would it be possible for me to come with?” Beverly’s own words surprised her, her mouth seemingly starting to move on its own accord.

“Uh,” Eddie tried to look over at his father for an out, but Mr. Kasbrak simply shot him a smile and a thumbs up, finally leaving the room to get cleaned up. “Sure, that’s fine with me. As long as you don’t mind a good bit of walking.”

Beverly flashed a grin in response, running back to the table to grab her bag, and shooting her surprised friends a wave as she followed Eddie out the door.

___________________________________

The two walked alongside down the path leading out of the Turtle, enveloped in an uncomfortable silence that stretched along several minutes.

Beverly was not one to to be at a loss for words, so her inability to come up with anything to say that could break the tension was incredibly frustrating. 

She did genuinely need to a few items from the store, but she was also drawn to join Eddie by some inert desire to get to know him. There was something incredibly fascinating about the boy, highlighted by his effortless interaction with Richie the night before. A tense, cold exterior no doubt disguising incredible substance that she couldn’t wait to get her hands on. 

Beverly has finally decided to just open her mouth and let the first thing to come out decide their conversation topic. She was pleasantly surprised, however, when Eddie was the one to break the silence first.

“So, uh, what are you going to school for?” 

Beverly smiled at him, “Why don’t you try guessing?” 

“Uh,” Eddie smiled hesitantly back, looking nervous at being put on the spot. 

“Actually, this will be fun, why don’t you try guessing all of our majors!” 

“What?! I’ve known you guys for, like, a total of ten minutes!” 

“That’s what makes it so fun!” Beverly gave him a wide grin that she knew from experience bordered on down-right evil-looking. 

“Come on,” she clapped her hands together. “Let’s start with me. And I’ll give you a hint.” 

She sped up a few steps in front of Eddie, spinning around to face him. She dragged her hands down next to her body, pointing to her outfit.

“Uh, I’m assuming you’re referencing your outfit and not your body, unless that was an elaborate hint to some kind of anatomy degree,” Eddie cocked his head. “So… clothes? I’m guessing… fashion design?” 

“Ding-ding-ding!” Beverly turned back around so the two were walking side-by-side once again, grinning brightly. “See, that wasn’t so hard!” 

“Yeah, it’s not hard when you have someone spoon-feeding you hints.” 

“Moving on! How about.. Bill next You talked to him the most out of all of us.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his mouth started opening, looking like he was about to correct Beverly. But he promptly seemed to change his mind, switching back to the current topic on a hair. 

“Well, he seems super nice. Very… easy to talk to. Maybe like, psychology? Or maybe education, I feel like he would be good with kids.” 

“Not close, but good guesses. Bill does have a younger brother, Georgie. He’s in high school now, but Bill was _amazing_ with him when we were all kids. Never bullied him or talked down to him or treated him like he was annoying. I _wish_ I had had an older brother like him.” 

Beverly felt her own head droop down a bit, as the sticky, bittersweet nostalgic memories of her childhood washed over her. As happy as she was with her current life, there was a lot of factors of the past that she would change if given the opportunity.

Best not to dwell on it though, she thought, turning back to Eddie, who had started to glance over at her silent form with increasing concerned confusion.

“You’re right on one fact though, Bill does have a _great way with words!”_

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Subtle. So, what, some English degree? How about, creative writing. That’s big at NYU, isn’t it?” 

“Correct again! And since we just did Bill, how about Mike next?”

The path the two were walking on curved slightly, suddenly exposing a view of softly-lapping waves in the distance, the sandy beaches still relatively unpopulated this early in the morning.

“Right. Mike is… which one again?” 

“I don’t think you guys talked at all, he’s pretty quiet until you get to know him. He’s Bill’s boyfriend, the guy in the yellow hoodie. He’s super hard-working, got an amazing smile, really into books, and probably the nicest guy you’ll ever meet in your life.” 

“Ok, not a lot to go off, but, uh,” Eddie crossed his arms. “Fuuuck, I don’t know? Nursing? He sounds like someone I would trust with my health. Which is saying a lot, by the way, coming from me.” 

Beverly blinked. “No, uh, that’s wrong. But, also, like, a super great idea? I mean his actual major is history, but maybe I should tell him to reconsider.” 

“Oh, so you’re just giving me the answers now?” 

“Yeah, you were never gonna get that one.” Beverly waved a hand at him, absent-mindedly. 

“Right, whatever,” Eddie pursed his lips, mumbling: “ _It’ll be fun~,_ my ass.” 

Beverly tipped her head back and laughed. They had started to pass by some idyllic rolling hills, speckled with small white wildflowers. A group of young kids ran throughout the hills, caught up in an elaborate game that seemed to be some sort of combination between duck-duck-goose and marco-polo.

Beverly smiled, watching the kids, before startling back into awareness as Eddie poked her abruptly in the side. 

“So, who’s next?”

“Oh,” Beverly said, smirking at him. “So now you’re getting into it, huh?” 

A soft breeze blew past them, lifting some of the wildflowers petals up to softly float through the air around them. Some of Beverly’s hair shifted forward to cover her eyes, which she brushed back, huffing.

She was about due for getting it all chopped off again. Maybe she’d let Richie do it rather than pay to get it done professionally, like he had offered to many times before when the two of them were buzzed and giggly, dangerously left alone to their own devices. 

“So, Ben next?” “Right, Ben… I talked to him on the phone, I think.” 

“Yup! That was him, he’s the only one of us that manages to sound polite over phone. Well, except for Mike, but he was driving.” 

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I believe it.” 

“So! Ben, like Mike, is super smart, heavy reader, a little shy at times. But he really likes to work with his hands, not to sound too dirty. _Also,_ a perfect boyfriend, in case you were wondering.” 

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. So, hands-on stuff? Engineering?” Eddie shifted closer to Beverly, making room for a woman jogging past, a large German Shepherd at her side. Beverly felt a bead of delight grow in her chest when Eddie didn’t immediately move away again, instead staying comfortably close by her side. 

“You’re on the right track!” 

“No more hints though, huh?” Eddie absentmindedly grabbed one of his hands in the other, cracking his knuckles one-by-one. “Close to engineering would be, what? Robotics? Architecture?” 

“Architecture! You got it!” Beverly clapped her hands together in genuine delight. “You’re getting good at this, Eddie! Now do Stan!”

“Stan, uh…” Eddie said, scratching his chin. “No clue. Could I get some hints?” 

“Right, of course,” Beverly smiled, “Stan, on the surface at least, is very analytical, very by the book and organized. Once you get to know him you realize that he’s, like, chaos personified, but don’t focus too heavily on that.” 

“Let’s see... I don’t know. Accounting?”

Beverly clapped once again, though there was a severe drop in enthusiasm. “Yup! That was an easy one, huh?” 

“Hey, don’t downplay me, that was a total shot in the dark. But, accounting? Really?” 

Beverly shrugged, “yeah, he’s like freaky good with numbers. He even planned the whole budget for this trip. And he did a great job, even though hearing about all of our finances made his nearly tear his hair out.” 

“Right,” Eddie huffed out a laugh. “So… just Richie is left? My first instinct would be like, I don't know, business degree or something. But I’m sure whatever it is is gonna surprise me. Like, theatre, maybe?” 

“Ha!” Beverly smiled, making a mental note of the fact that Eddie didn’t stop to ask for any clues about Richie. “You’re not far off with the artsy path.” 

“Alright, so.” Eddie made a turn off the path, and Beverly looked up to realize that the store was suddenly right in front of them. Eddie continued, “I don’t get any painter vibes from him, I seriously doubt dancing. Maybe, photography? Or actually… music?” 

Beverly spun around to face him again, jumping in excitement. “You got it! Oh my god, Eddie, that’s amazing!” She grabbed both of Eddie’s hands, shaking them up and down. The other boy bit back a giggle, but that didn’t stop the bright smile from flashing across his face. 

“So, music? What instrument does he play? Or should I guess that too.” 

“No, I’ll give you that one, you’ve earned it. It’s piano.” 

Eddie stared forward into space, eyebrows furrowing as he likely tried to imagine Richie, sitting prim and proper in front of a grand piano, playing some sort of classical music.

It was a hard sight to imagine, Beverly knew from experience. She probably wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t have been to so many of Richie’s recitals in the past, her and the other Losers gladly taking up the seats left empty by his parents.

Beverly quieted her voice a bit as the two walk through the entrance into the store, suddenly blasted by the chill of air-conditioning and sounds of soft pop music playing over the loudspeaker. 

“Thanks for not writing him off immediately, by the way. Richie has a lot more substance than people like to give him credit for.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Eddie says, the tone in his voice implying that even he was unsure of his own sarcasm.

Eddie made a beeline for the first aisle of food, Beverly ducking to the side to quickly grab a box of tampons off a shelf, tucking it behind her back as she sped up to catch up with the other boy.

Beverly bounced her wallet in hand, watching Eddie as he meticulously picked up apple after apple, giving each one a cursory sniff. 

“Richie doesn’t mean to be so gross, I promise. All of this is pretty new to him.”

“All of this?” 

“The... _flirting with guys_ thing. He didn’t come out until a couple of months ago, and I think he’s still feeling pretty vulnerable about the whole thing. So, he’s dealing with it like he deals with everything that makes him uncomfortable.” 

“Obnoxiously?”

Beverly snorted. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

Eddie finally seemed to have found a collection of about a dozen apples that he deemed acceptable, throwing them in his bag. 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she winked over at Eddie, leaning closer to whisper, “If he ever crosses the line, just say ‘beep beep’ and he’ll stop right away.” 

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. 

“I swear! It’s like some crazy Pavlonian conditioning that Bill and Stan did on him when they were kids.”

“I’ll…. Keep that in mind, I guess.” 

The two continued to move through the aisles in comfortable silence. At least, it was comfortable on Beverly’s end. Eddie seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, absentmindedly throwing more and more items into his bag.

They were standing in front of shelves full of flour when Eddie finally spoke up again. 

“I can’t say that I really… understand the scenario,” he began. “I never really had a big coming out. Everyone, my dad and classmates included, just kind of _assumed_ I was gay ever since I was a kid. And I, just, never corrected them, uh, since they assumed right. Not that I figured that out until high school.” 

“Huh,” Beverly says. “Made that milestone a little easier on you though, didn’t it?” 

“Yeah, right, easy,” Eddie huffs. “Don’t you just _love_ when you’re the last person to find out about your own sexuality.” 

Beverly stayed silent for a moment, thinking quietly as she grabbed a few six-packs of soda to bring back to the group.

“I want to say that his insecurity is unwarranted. I mean, I came out as bi our first year of college. And Mike and Bill have been not-so-secretely in love with each other since we were fucking kids. But, our home town _sucked._ And I don’t mean that in the traditional way that every college kid resents their hometown. Like, it was an _actual_ hell on earth.”

Eddie didn’t say anything in reply, but he cocked his head in Beverly’s direction, making it obvious that he was actively listening. 

Beverly continued: “There was an abundance of school bullies and hate crimes and shitty parents and fucking… _clowns_. It’s a wonder any of us managed to survive all that. So, it makes sense for Richie to be so…. Fucked up about it, is all I’m saying.” 

“Wait, back the fuck up. What clowns?”

“What you didn’t have a clown-related trauma happen to you while you were growing up?” “No! That’s not a normal thing to have?!”

“Huh. Maybe it’s just a Derry thing.”

Eddie faltered in his step next to hers, barely catching himself at the last minute from falling flat on his face. 

He spun to face her, now stopped dead in the middle of the aisleway. “Derry?”

“Uh,” She cocked her head to the side, confused. “Yeah?”

“Like... Derry, Maine?” 

“Yeah! You heard of it or something?” 

Eddie blinked back at her, still looking quite shocked at the new information. Not for any reason Beverly could fathom, though. There was literally nothing special about Derry. It might as well be a trauma-shaped hole dab center in the shit corner of the US. Unless you considered being a breeding home of hate and filth something to write home about. 

Eddie turned his wide gaze away from her, looking down at the tile in front of his feet. 

“More than heard of it,” he said quietly, taking a few slow steps forward before resettling into the brisk walk they had been in before.

“Huh?” 

“I used to live there.” 

“No shit!” Beverly sped up slightly so she look down into Eddie eyes. “You’re our age, though! How come none of us know you?” 

“Er, I moved away when I was really young. I was four when my parents got divorced. My mom, uh, still lives there, though. I think.” 

The two made their way to the checkout counter, Beverly paying for her stuff first. Along with her tampons and soda, she threw a few boxes of candy on the counter, and asked the woman behind the counter for a pack of cigarettes. After she was done, Eddie put his bag on the counter, digging a handful of coupons out of the side pocket and handing them to the cashier. 

While all of his food was being scanned in, Beverly turned back to him, and said: “What’s her name? Maybe one of us knows her? I mean, it's not a huge town, after all.” 

Eddie’s demeanor had completely shifted from the calm comfortability of before, and now he was looking slightly horrified, twisting his hands nervously on the counter in front of him.

“Y’know, nevermind,” Beverly cut back in suddenly, making the other boy jump. “Parents can be a sore subject. Trust me, I get it. Let’s talk about something else.” 

Eddie stared at his hands for a moment more, before looking up at her with a small smile. “Ok.” 

The two of them grabbed their bags, stepping back outside into the sticky Florida heat. 

Beverly checked her phone. “I hope they weren’t expecting pancakes anytime soon. The walk here alone took twenty minutes.”

“Uh, yeah. Usually I would jog the whole way there and back. But I wasn’t about to make you do that with me.”

“Oh. Oops!” She shrugged. “Guess they’ll just have to starve!” 

Eddie snorted, “yeah, sucks for them.” He pulled out one of the apples, taking a bite. Then he added, more quietly: “RIP to your friends but I’m different.” 

Beverly laughed loudly, tipping her head back and letting the bright, Florida sunlight wash over her in streaming rivulets, feeling warmer than she had in a long time. 

___________________________________

Hours later, the Losers were slowly making their way back up the path to the Turtle, giggly and exhausted from a day spent touring the local shops and galleries.

They had ended in a particularly odd thrift shop, from which Richie had acquired a near-life size wooden carving of a Tanuki, which he was now gleefully clutching with both arms wrapped fully around its circumference.

How they were going to fit it into the back of their van, Beverly wasn’t quite sure. 

As they got closer to the front walk of the B&B, Richie faltered in his step next to Beverly. She turned to see what he had been looking at, and spotted Eddie, standing in a side garden, hose in hand as he gently watered down a patch of vibrant tulips. 

Before Beverly could call out to him, however, Richie shoved his giant raccoon carving into her arms, mumbling out a distracted: “Hold this, won’t you? I’ll be right back.” 

Not waiting for a response, Richie jogged up to the other boy, calling out: “Hey, uh, Eddie?” 

Eddie startled and spun around, nearly catching Richie in the spray of the hose before remembering to take his hand off the handle. “Uh, hey. What’s up?” 

“I wanted to... I wanted to apologize, for the stuff I said last night.”

“Apologize? Richie, what are you-”

“No, I get it. I know I come off strong, all obnoxious and shit. More than enough people have let me know that. And you don’t deserve to have some random fag coming in and harrasing you-”

“Don’t fucking call yourself that.” Eddie cut him off, his sentence punctuated by his sharp finger poking Richie square in the chest. 

“I, uh-” Richie started to say something else, startled, before Eddie cut him off once again. “I… don’t think you’re gross Richie.” Eddie said, simmering down slightly, letting his hand fall to dangle at his side. “There’s nothing gross about flirting with people that you like.” 

“Uh.” Richie was wide-eyed, struck dumb in a manner that Beverly was really not used to seeing. Not that she was complaining, it was pretty hilarious to watch. 

Eddie, meanwhile, was too occupied to notice. He seemed to be psyching himself to say something else, eventually huffing and crossing his arms. Not quite meeting Richie’s eyes, he finally said: “Especially if they like the same things you do.” 

Without another word, Eddie dropped the hose on the ground, spinning around and heading back towards the front of the B&B. He left behind Richie, who stared straight forward at the spot where Eddie had just been standing a moment before. Beverly squinted, almost certain that she could see the gears in Richie’s head working double-time to process the conversation. 

Nearing the gate, Eddie tipped his head up, finally noticing Beverly standing nearby. He cocked his head to the side, giving her a (only slightly shaky) grin, his whole face illuminated beautifully by the small splashes of red on his cheeks. 

Beverly liked to think that she had a very fine-tuned sense when it came to finding people that were good for her. 

She didn’t run with a very wide social circle, but the friends she did have, she hoped to have for life. They were the people, possibly the only people, that she would gladly die for, holding on tight with both hands for dear life until the very end. 

She liked what she liked, and what she loved she loved with a passion. And it was in that moment that she decided that she liked, and could potentially one day grow to love, Eddie Kaspbrak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters! Fic writing is...... hard


	3. Stanley Uris

Stanley Uris fancied himself a good tourist. 

He put a lot of research into a place before arriving, scoping out the best spots and sights to see. Hours spent on travel websites and middle-aged women’s blogs were a necessity in the days leading up to a trip. 

Planning ahead gave him a sense of security that counteracted the anxiety he had from being in a new place. He used to try to plan things out on a rigid schedule, blocking things out specifically by the minute. He was quick to abandon this practice, however, when he remembered the group he would be vacationing with. 

On this day in particular, Stan had pushed the group out the door promptly after breakfast, 8 o’clock on the dot (though they were almost made late by the amount of time it took Stan to pry Richie from his position of flirting with Eddie at the lobby counter). 

They started the day off at the local farmers market, Mike striking up conversation with a vendor selling chicken products, while Bill and Ben singled out every table featuring artisan soaps, meticulously giving each and every one an uncomfortably lengthy sniff. 

They all walked out about an hour later, toting bags of snacks and goods, Richie holding a small succulent that Stan knew he would end up taking over ownership for by the time they got back to school, lest the thing be dead in a week. 

Ben came out to join the others on the street a few minutes later, clutching a large bouquet of various wildflowers that he immediately handed over to Beverly, a small blush dusting his cheeks. She shot him a wide grin in return, taking the flowers and plucking one from the bunch, tucking it behind Ben’s ear. She then promptly turned and flipped off Bill, who was making exaggerated gagging noises a few feet away next to a snickering Mike. 

Stanley felt himself fidget as the noise racked up a notch, the glimmer in Bev’s eyes indicating a foot coming in contact with someone’s shin in the near future. Wanting desperately to avoid a public spectacle, he rounded up his friends and steered them in the direction of their next destination. 

___________________________________

In his research, Stan had scouted out a cozy little bookstore on the beachfront, much to the delight of Bill, Ben, and Mike, who immediately rushed inside. 

The other three hung back at the entrance, enchanted by a large, black-and-white speckled dog splayed out at the top of the stairs leading into the store. It was probably the cutest thing Stan had ever seen, wearing a green bandana over a collar that read ‘Pumpkin.’ 

“Alright,” Richie announced loudly, now plopped down on the porch next to Pumpkin, hugging her head to his chest. “Not only would I die _or_ kill for Pumpkin, but I’m also ready to make the argument that there is nothing stopping us from stealing her and taking her back to New York.” 

Stan was about to refute with a long list of things that would definitely stop them from doing such, when a middle-aged woman (a bandana matching the one Pumpkin wore holding back her long graying hair) poked her head out the window open over Richie’s head. She looked down to stare at the Richie’s scalp, an eyebrow cocked, and said: “y’know if you’re going to talk about stealing someone’s dog, you should try to at least be a little more subtle about it."

Visions of them being kicked out to the curb flashed before Stan’s eyes, before Beverly managed to placate things in seconds with a charming smile flashing across her face. 

Bill, Ben, and Mike finally emerged from the bookstore close to forty-five minutes later, each slugging along their own heavy-looking canvas bag over a shoulder. Stanley thought about asking them how much of their budgets they had just blown on one store, but stopped himself upon seeing the happy glint in Bill’s eyes that had been pointedly missing the past few months. 

Richie planted one final kiss tenderly on Pumpkin’s head before the six of them headed off, waving over their shoulders at the shop owner still leaning out the window. 

___________________________________

After grabbing lunch, Stanley had planned on taking the others to a nice local winery, but that idea went to shit when Richie found a flyer advertising sand castle building classes at the beach close to their B&B. 

And so, Stan’s meticulously laid plans were thrown carelessly to the wind, and instead he found himself sitting in the sand twenty minutes later, watching a long-haired surfer-girl type take hold of Richie’s hands as she took him through the process of carefully crafting a perfect column out of sand. 

Richie was showcasing a surprising display of patience, biting indents into his bottom lip in an attempt to hold back any of his usual comments.

Stan had finally felt himself start to relax, when he looked to his side and saw Beverly leaning over and whispering into Bill’s ear. The glint in Bill’s eyes that followed sent a shiver of fear shooting up Stan’s spine.

Ten minutes later, the group found themselves walking hastily to a different part of the beach, having just been severely lectured and banned from any further sand-castle-related activities. 

Normally, such a public display would leave Stanley steaming, giving his friends the cold shoulder for hours to days following (though more often, minutes). 

But Stan looked back to observe the rest of the group: Beverly, face red with laughter, attempting to pick the clumps of sand from Richie’s soaked mess of hair as Bill trailed behind them, still breathless with giggles and struggling to walk straight even with Mike’s hand slung helpfully around his waist. 

And he found that he couldn’t truthfully find much reason to be upset. 

___________________________________

The comfortable warmth of afternoon found the group setting up their towels on the sand, having run back to the B&B to grab the necessary supplies for a lazy afternoon lying on the beach. 

And approximately five minutes after reclining back and closing his eyes, Stanley felt a hand tug out one of his earbuds. He opened one eye, and looked up to see Richie squatting over him, a shameless grin stretched across his face. 

“Hey Stan.” 

Rather than responding, Stanley decided to close his eyes once again, attempting to ignore Richie’s calls of “Stan, Staaaan, Stan!” until each utterance of his name was accompanied with a sharp poke to his ribs. Finally, Stanley shot forward, perching himself up on his elbows as he glared at Richie’s still-grinning face.

“What?!”

“Come get ice cream with me.” Richie stuck a thumb backwards over his shoulder. Stanley followed the direction of his finger until he finally spotted a small food stand on the boardwalk above the beach. The stand was garishly decorated, featuring several colorful batches of flowers placed sporadically on every available surface, including the roof, as well as an impressive amount of string lights, enough that Stanley was sure the place looked somewhat akin to a giant lightbulb once the sun went down. The large white lace curtains framing the counter were likely closed at night, but now flapped freely in the breeze, almost resembling a pair of ghostly hands motioning bystanders to come closer. 

Stanley looked back over at Richie, considering for a moment before squinting and asking “You paying?” 

Richie grinned wider, grabbing Stanley by the arm and pulling him to his feet. Richie then linked their hands together, swinging them wildly as he began skipping in the direction of the stand. 

Stanley grumbled under his breath as he was tugged along, though he didn’t make any attempt to actually resist. 

Coming up mere feet from the counter to the stand, Richie suddenly let out a soft “Oh, shit” from Stanley’s side, his head craned fully to the right.

Stanley followed Richie’s line of sight, finally spotting the subject of his rapt attention. Eddie Kasprak was jogging along the path slightly ahead of the two boys. He was wearing a light grey t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, alongside a pair of pink jogging shorts (that Stanley would reckon were perhaps just a size too small for the boy). 

“Stan, why don’t you, uh, go ahead and order for the both of us?” Richie said, slapping a hand on Stanley’s back as he began to drift away in Eddie’s direction. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Richie took off down the path, muttering in a barely audible tone as he went: “ _This kid will be the death of me, I swear to Christ…_ ”

Stanley started to call after him, asking for the money he had promised to pay for the ice cream with, but was quick to give up with a sigh. He walked the remaining few steps up to the counter, assessing the girl, who looked to be about his age, sitting behind the cash register. 

She was awfully pretty, Stanley quietly admitted to himself, sporting a bright summer tan and wearing a soft white blouse over some jean shorts, her long black curls tied back into a neat braid. 

She, at the moment, had her nose stuck down close to a small canvas perched upright in her lap, paintbrush in her other hand.

Incredibly absorbed in whatever she was painting, she didn’t notice Stanley walking up and standing in front of the counter until a few moments later when he finally cleared his throat. 

“Oh.” She said, her head shooting up, blinking a few times before breaking out into a wide smile so luminous it almost makes Stanley stumble a step back. “Hello!” 

She didn’t wait for Stanley to respond to her greeting, setting down her canvas and leaning forward with her elbows perched on the counter. She flipped her braid back from over her shoulder, revealing a small name-tag labeled ‘Patty :)’

“What can I get you?” 

“I’ll take a vanilla cone. And, uh,” he looked back over his shoulder at Richie, who was now waving his hands more and more sporadically in whatever tale he was attempting to tell. Eddie was watching the whole thing with rapt attention, an affectionate smile crawling on to his face whenever Richie wasn’t looking in his direction. Stanley squinted, and continued “What’s the worst possible thing you could sell me?”

This finally got the girl, _Patty,_ to drop her smile, looking confused for a moment before switching to a more analytical expression, reaching around to dig in the freezer sitting at her side. 

After a few beats of rummaging, she pulled a package out and tossed it on the counter. It was some sort of off-brand lemon popsicle, likely having been shoved to the bottom of the freezer for a considerable amount of time given the amount of ice obscuring words on the label.

“This, definitely.” Patty said, tucking her chin into the palm of one hand, her other stuck out in a lazy gesture to the ice pop. “It’s totally bland. Tastes like freezer burn.” 

“Thanks,” Stanley said, pushing the pop closer to a patch of sun, hoping that it would get uncomfortably melted by the time it reached Richie’s hands. 

“No problem. That’s not for you, right?” Patty leaned forward, a smile back on her face in full effect. “Unless you’re some kind of masochist or something.” 

“What? No, I…” Stanley looked back at the other two boys once again, rolling his eyes as Richie pitched his voice higher, doing a bad impression of the surfer girl from earlier. He turned back around, “My friend abandoned me to go flirt, so I wanted to get back at him a little.” 

“Oh…” Patty huffed a small laugh, nodding a bit. “And that bothers you so much why? You got a crush on him or something?” Her grin turned mischievous, her eyes glimmering.

Stanley’s disgust at the idea must have shown on his face, because Patty immediately burst out in laughter after taking one look at him. 

“Ok, I guess not. So what, are you just jealous because he has someone to flirt with and you don’t?”

“Yeah, right. Does ice cream always come with psycho-social analysis? You should really put up some signs for that, might bring in some more business.” Stan paused for a minute, wondering if he had gone a step too far with the sarcasm. He relaxed, however, when Patty’s smile only continued to grow in size. 

“Oh, I would, believe me. But my parents won’t give me that much creative control over the place.” She craned her head out slightly, gesturing to the decorations littering the exterior of the shop. “They let me choose the decorations for the place, at least.”

“Oh yeah? They look…” Stan felt his breath stutter when Patty turned her eyes back on him, glimmering excitedly in a way that made her look inexplicably charming. “Nice. The place looks really… nice.” 

The smile that followed on Patty’s face was so endearingly bright that Stan had to drop his gaze. He plopped his hands on top of the counter and rubbed them together so he would have something to stare at.

“Thanks!” She said, reaching out to rub the petals of one of the flowers hanging off the side of the stand. “It’s not a lot, but my parents are pretty proud of the place. I am too.” 

Stan looked up, taking the momentary distraction on the girl’s part as an opportunity to get a closer look at her. She had exceptionally long eyelashes that fluttered down as she shut her eyes and inhaled the salty scent of the ocean brought up by a particularly strong breeze. At some point during their conversation, she had pulled the scrunchie out from her braid, and her hair began to loosely fan out down her back in waves. 

He jumped when he looked back to her face and found her looking expectantly back at him, as if waiting for him to take charge and keeping the conversation going. 

Stanley’s mind whirred for a second before he finally landed on the first topic he could think of, saying, “I do question the efficacy of setting up an ice cream stand so close to huge flocks of seagulls, though.”

“Oh, they’re _harmless._ And pretty fun to watch.” Stanley must have made another face, because she continued, rolling her eyes, “What? You’re not a fan?” 

“Usually, I’m a fan of birds. But seagulls are an exception.” He pointed a finger out to the beach, where one seagull in particular was continuously stealing pretzels out a bag held in the hands of a toddler every time she turned her head away. “Like look at that. Obnoxious, devil-made creatures. They hardly count as birds. More like… rats that somehow gained the capacity for flight.” 

Patty huffed a laugh. “Don’t be so mean… You can’t have a beach without seagulls! They’re a staple, maintain the novelty of the place. And look, they keep the kids entertained too.” She pointed off in a different direction. Stanley followed her finger and found himself looking at a charming scene of two twin boys running laps around a big flock of seagulls, giggling endlessly whenever one would squawk or flap its wings at them. 

Stan was silent for a moment, watching, before he was startled by a finger suddenly being pointed in his face.

“Ha!” Patty exclaimed, smirking. “There’s a smile, _finally_. You got kids or something?”

“Uh, no. I’m definitely not ready to be a parent right now. But…” he glanced back over at the boys, a small smile returning to his face before he looked back over at Patty. “I do want some. Someday.” 

Patty stared at him for a moment, (long enough for him to nervously shift his weight, wondering if he somehow said the wrong thing) before breaking out in another smile, much softer than the ones she had given him before. 

“I feel the same way.” She said, nodding her head meaningfully, “About wanting kids. _Someday_.” 

Stanley felt his pulse grow a little faster with each passing moment the two maintained eye contact, letting out a breathe he didn’t realize he was holding when Patty finally broke away, looking at something off to the side. 

“Looks like your friend’s finally coming back for you,” She said, sighing. Stanley looked up to see that Richie was, in fact, walking in their direction, Eddie in tow. 

Stan looked back over to see Patty pulling out a blank sheet of receipt paper from the register’s printer. She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward and writing something on the paper that Stan couldn’t quite make out until a moment later, when she finished writing and slid the paper forward on the counter in his direction. 

“Here,” Patty said, avoiding eye contact and looking nervous in a way that was uncharacteristic from the person that Stanley had come to know over the past fifteen minutes. “I’ll be here at the stand most days this summer. But, I want you to have this just in case you can’t find me and you want to, I don’t know, talk or something.” 

Stanley cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the paper sitting in front of him, feeling his breath stutter once again when he saw the number written on it in delicate handwriting. 

He thought about reaching out and taking out the paper, imagined pulling out his phone and adding her number to his contact list right away. Thought about telling Richie to go ahead without him so he could stick around and talk to her for a little bit longer. Even thought about saying ‘screw it’ and asking Patty out on a date right then and there. 

But all these thoughts of possibility came to a halt when he was suddenly brought vividly back to one moment of his childhood, when he had returned home from a particularly rough day at school, sporting a few fresh bruises under his shirt courtesy of Bowers and his gang. He had walked through the front door only to be greeted by the sounds of his parents fighting in the kitchen, shouting over each other in an ugly cacophony that made his head throb. The memory ended on an image the younger version of himself ducking his head under the covers, desperately wishing to be anywhere but Derry. 

“Sorry, I, uh.” Stanley said, his stomach twisting, pushing off from the counter suddenly, turning and walking away. He didn’t dare to glance back at the expression on Patty’s face, not quite sure what he would be most dreading to see in that moment. 

He kept a steady pace walking back to the beach, staring steadfastly at the path in front of his feet. He heard, rather than saw, Richie and Eddie finally catch up to him, falling into pace by his side. 

He knew Richie was prattling off various statements, apologies about abandoning Stan alongside non-subtle brags about convincing Eddie to come join the group for the rest of the day. However, It was hard for Stan to make out the specific words coming out of his friend’s mouth over the loud droning noise currently filling his head.

“You ok, dude?” 

Stan looked up, finally noticing Richie staring at him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Eddie stood behind him, a similar expression on his face as he also glanced over in Stan’s direction.

“Uh,” Stan tried to school his expression into something more neutral, though he could tell he failed by the way Richie’s eyebrows continued to furrow further. “Yeah, I’m… fine. I’m just gonna go talk to Mike. See you guys later.” The words left him a rush as he turned to run in the direction of Mike and BIll, the only two still out of the water, not waiting to hear a reply from Richie. 

Mike was currently sitting on a beach chair, a book in his lap and his feet buried in the sand. Bill was a few feet away, curled up on his towel underneath an umbrella, snoring softly. 

Stan finished making his way up to the pair, flopping down exhausted on a towel laying to Mike’s side, groaning loudly as he glared up at the sky. 

“Uh,” Mike said, closing his book and moving his sunglasses up to his forehead. “Everything alright there, buddy?” 

“I talked to a girl.”

“As you’ve been known to do in the past. What’s the problem?”

“She tried to give me her number.” 

Mike let out a low whistle. “Wow. And how’d you handle that?” Stanley grimaced before muttering “badly.”

He finally took his arm off his face and glared over at Mike as the other boy let out a loud, barking laugh. 

Mike, after a moment, noticed the stormy expression on his friend’s face, and tried to stifle his laughter behind a fist. “Sorry Stan, I just… You know you’ve never been good with girls. You always laughed about it before. Why is this one bothering you so much?” 

“Because…” Stanley sat up and squinted out at the ocean, glaring at the waves like they had done something to personally affront him. “I really liked her, I think. And sometimes I worry that I’ll never… Never be able to do this stuff, you know?” 

Mike dropped his smile, leaning forward with a more serious expression. “What _stuff_ , Stan?” 

“Like, dating! Or flirting, or any of this stuff you guys seem to be able to do so easily.” Stan dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, his head suddenly throbbing miserably. “I’ll be doing really good, you know, almost functioning like a normal fucking person. And then, all of a sudden, something will trigger a memory, or even a feeling. And it all just… crumbles.” 

Mike was silent for a moment, and when Stan finally opened his eyes again he saw that the other boy’s mouth was twisted in a worried grimace. 

“Stan…” Mike started, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re still seeing that therapist we were talking about right?” 

“Yeah, of course. And it’s helping, I think. It’s just… when you grow up the product of a loveless marriage. Or a loveless town, really.” Stan sighed and clutched his hands together, staring absently at the sand. “Is there really any hope for a healthy relationship?” 

He looked up, squinting to make out the figures of his friends out in the water before continuing “I mean, you and Bill, you have it all figured out. You guys are going to be together forever, I can see it. But I don’t know if I can be like you, Mike. Like any of the rest of you.” 

Mike suddenly got up from his chair, walking over to sit in the sand next to Stan. He swung an arm around the other boy’s shoulders, waiting until Stan turned to make eye contact before finally speaking, “Look, what happened to us, all of it, it _sucked._ And I’m not going to give you some bullshit about how it ‘made you stronger.’ Stan, you were strong to begin with. All of you guys, being around you made me stronger too. I’m glad I got to meet you.” 

Mike held eye contact with Stanley, the serious line of his face eventually giving way to an easy smile. “And if it makes you feel better, I think we have enough weird, codependent love going on between the six of us to make up for any deficiency our parents left behind.”

The two boys maintained eye contact in silence for a moment, before Stanley finally broke it, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. 

“You can do this, Stanley.”

Stan huffed a small, humorless laugh, clasping his hands back together. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

Mike smiled at him, slapping a hand gently against Stan’s shoulder before standing back up. “That’s fine. You don’t have to. I’ll believe enough for the both of us.” 

Stan swallowed past the lump in his throat, attempting to offer back what he knew would be a watery smile. He then craned his head back, squinting to make out the figure of Patty sitting in the same spot he had left her moments before, head ducked back close to her canvas, her long black hair flying every cardinal direction in the seaside wind. 

Stan sighed, standing up and brushing the sand from his pants. 

For the many scenarios in his life that seem unbearingly scary, this one one he decided resolutely to endure. So, he dug deep, and started his path up the walkway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the nice comments on the last chapter! I had a lot of fun with this one :)


	4. Richie Tozier

Richie Tozier fancied himself a good guy to get to know.

He continued to believe this despite the many instances of his childhood where people had told him otherwise. 

Teachers, bullies, peers, even his own parents spent a good amount of hours during his early development trying to bore into Richie’s mind just how big an absolute fucking disappointment he was. Some of it was warranted, Richie would be the first one to admit that. He could be pretty obnoxious at times. 

But other points of belittlement could just be summed up to Richie being a _kid._ A four-eyed, funny-talking, buck-toothed kid, but a kid nonetheless. And he had finally reached the point of his adulthood where he could come to terms with that, leaving the associated self-loathing mostly to his past self. 

_And_ he had managed to, despite it all, get ahold of a die-hard group of friends that had stuck by his side through everything. Well, most everything. On this day in particular, Richie found himself alone, the rest of his friends abandoning him in favor of enjoying a romantic day out with their various significant others. Not to say this situation hadn’t played out for Richie’s perpetually single ass before. 

Typically when a day like this would come by, Richie would at least have Stanley nearby to keep him company (or at least sit in the same room as Richie entertained himself with a one-on-one ongoing commentary). But now Stan had that girl from the ice cream stand to spend his time with, so Richie was left to his own devices (not that he was bitter about it or anything). 

Despite the disappointing circumstances of it, Richie was excited at the possibility of having the day to himself, for that meant a good number of hours spent one-on-one with his newly favorite source of entertainment, Eddie Kaspbrak. If only he could find the little fucker. 

Richie had slept through breakfast that morning, and had apparently missed any chance of spotting the other boy along with it. It was nearing noon by this point, and Richie had already wasted nearly half an hour standing at the front counter, waiting for someone to show up. And once that had proved fruitless, he scoped out each of the bedrooms before heading out to the garden, inevitably disappointed when each search came up empty. 

He had most recently stationed himself back at the front desk, contemplating his next move, when he suddenly heard the sounds of movement and clanging dishes coming from the direction of the kitchen. He immediately smacked his own forehead at his own stupidity in not considering the kitchen as a place of relevant interest, before hastily making his way over to the curtained entrance.

“Uh, hello?” Richie said, peeking his head around the curtain. He was greeted by the sight of Frank Kaspbrak standing over the stove, stirring some kind of delicious-smelling soup in a large, cast-iron pot as light 90’s pop music playing on a radio in the background. 

“Oh, hello!” Frank yelled, nearly knocking the pot over in his hurry to turn and see who was talking. He quickly spun back around, grabbing one handle to right the pot. “You’re one of that group, right? The college kids?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Richie shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment before fully entering the room, shoving his hands in his short’s pockets. 

“Sorry I never got the chance to properly introduce myself to you guys. Eddie’s really been taking charge lately.” He twisted his body around awkwardly, still holding the wooden spoon in his right hand as he left reached out towards Richie. “Frank Kaspbrak, nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah, uh, no problem. Richie Tozier.” Richie shook his hand, only realizing once he pulled away that it had been covered in some kind of sticky food residue. He waited until the other man turned back to face the stove before swiping a nearby towel to wipe his hands off with, quickly tossing it over his shoulder when he was done.

“You missed breakfast, right? Help yourself to any of those snacks on the counter there. We have plenty. More than the two of us can eat anyway.” Frank said, pointing over his shoulder without looking away from his pot. Richie followed his finger, finally noticing the wide array of baked goods spread out over the kitchen island. The variety ranged from muffins and scones to cakes and brownies, a large majority of which Richie had already sampled during the meals the group had shared at The Turtle. 

“Thanks, man” Richie said, grabbing a muffin off the top of the pile, taking a bite. “These are great, by the way.” 

Frank let out a small laugh. “Oh, well kid, usually I’m a sucker for any compliment I can get, believe me. But I didn’t make those. Eddie did.” 

“No shit?” Richie coughed awkwardly around his mouthful of food. “Uh, sorry. I mean, Really?” 

“Yeah. I cook most of the entrees and side dishes, but Eddie’s a master at baking. Picked it up as a kid.”

“Huh.” Richie huffed a laugh as he stared down at the muffin in his hand, a fond feeling creeping from his subconscious on its own volition. “Talented kid.” 

“Ha, you got that right!” A fond, paternal smile coming across Frank’s face that made Richie a little jealous, thinking about his own father back in Derry. “So Richie, what’s your story? Eddie told me you all are from that fancy school in New York he’s obsessed with.” 

“Uh, yeah. New York University. We all just finished our sophomore year.”

Frank let out a low whistle, reaching towards the spice rack and blindly picking up a bottle while glancing back at Richie over his shoulder. “Congrats. So, you all studying the same thing? Or, how do you all know each other?” 

“We've all actually been friends since we were kids, if you’ll believe it. Grew up in Derry together, and got too codependent to separate for college.” 

“Derry? Derry, Maine?” Frank stared wide-eyed at Richie, letting out a surprised guffaw when the boy nodded his head in reply. “No kidding.” 

He turned back to the stove, thoughtful, giving the soup a few more stirs before continuing, “That’s where we’re from, you know. Eddie was born right there, in Derry Home Hospital.” 

“Yeah, Bev told me.” Richie said, taking another bite of his muffin as he leaned back against the island, staring at Frank’s profile. “That was a smart move, getting Eddie out of that hellhole so early. World-class parenting, I mean it.” 

“Ha, thanks kid.” The smile on Frank’s face faded, ever so slightly. “Although I admit, it was as much for my benefit as it was for his.” 

“What do you mean?” Richie said, after a moment of quiet between the two. 

“Sometimes I worry that I just traded one dead-end town for another. Though this one does have brighter sunlight and a lower murder rate.” Frank spoke quietly, staring absently into his pot. “There’s just not a lot of opportunities for the kid. Eddie, I mean. No fancy New York colleges, that’s for sure.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t think it’s very fair to compare this place to Derry. Take it from a Derry resident of eighteen years, Eddie really upgraded.”

“Yeah, I get it. But... Eddie wants more than this, I can tell. And I don’t blame him, I mean the kid’s smart as hell. Hard-working, driven, ambitious. I don’t know where on Earth he got it from, because it certainly wasn’t me.”

Richie let out a sudden, quiet snort, remembering the first moment he had met Eddie, all fire and confrontation upon immediate impression. “He’s something special, that’s for sure.” 

Frank turned off the heat to the stove and leaned his hip against the counter, turning his front to face Richie. He studied the boy’s face long enough for Richie to start squirming, his face reddening. The older man finally gave a small smile, turning back to the stove and mummering quietly, “You bet your ass he is.” 

Frank was quiet for another moment before leaning back, his fingertips resting on the very edge of the counter in front of him as he stared out the window over the stove. “Is it selfish, you think? Me wanting him to stay, when I know there’s so much more out there for him?” 

“I think that’s just a dad thing.” Richie said, not that he really had any experience to base this assertion on (but he made it all the same). 

Frank didn’t respond right away, instead continuing to stare out the window in a concentrated silence. Eventually, after a long enough time that turned the silence uncomfortable and made sweat bead on the back of Richie’s neck, the older man turned away from the counter, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“Well, you were looking for Eddie, right?” 

Richie distinctly did not remember ever mentioning the fact that he was looking for Eddie, but he nodded all the same, trying to ward off the blush he felt crawling up his neck. 

Frank huffed a laugh before nodding his head in the direction of the window. “He went for a walk a little bit ago. There’s a park about five minutes away that he likes to go to. To get away from me, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, right. Well,” Richie huffed a laugh, pushing off from the counter and brushing the remaining muffin crumbs off his hands. “Thanks, Mr. Kaspbrak.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder, slowly gravitating towards the door. “I’m going to head out, look if I can spot your boy-o. Thanks for the chat. And the muffin.”

“No problem, kid.” Frank said, turning back to the stove as he started loading spoonfuls of the soup into small glass Tupperware containers.

Richie was nearly out the door when he thought twice, peeking his head back in and saying, “Hey, one last thing, Mr. Kaspbrak?”

Frank didn’t reply, but turned his head slightly back over his shoulder to indicate he was listening.

“I do really think you’re a pretty good dad.” Richie said, his voice uncommonly serious. “And... I’m sure Eddie thinks so too. He’s lucky to have you.”

Frank might have said something in response, but Richie didn’t wait around to find out. Instead, he slipped quickly out the front door, taking down the path at a half-jog as he looked around for signs of a park.

___________________________________

Eventually, he reached a slight incline in the path, and, standing at the top of a small hill, he finally spotted a small clearing in the midst of a cluster of trees.

Though, it seemed to qualify as a “park” by the barest of terms, he found Eddie sitting under one large tree in particular, his back turned to Richie.

“Well, _I’ll be,”_ Richie shouted the second he was in sure earshot of the other boy, putting on an attempt at a southern twang. He couldn’t tell if the accent landed or not, since Eddie’s only visible reaction was to jump approximately ten feet in the air and spin around to stare, baffled, in his direction.

“I can hardly believe my eyes! _Eddie Kasprak_ , ‘n the flesh.” The longer he spoke, the more relaxed Eddie became, his expression of surprise melting into one of flushed annoyance. 

Richie flopped down in the grass next to the other boy, grinning as Eddie tipped his head back to rest against the tree trunk, one eye closing as the other continued to glance over warily in Richie’s direction. 

“How’d you even find me?” 

Richie winked at him, tapping his temple with a finger. “Secret radar, right up here. Scopes out any adorably tiny heir to B&B fortune within a 500-meter radius.”

Eddie rolled his eyes before closing both fully and muttering, “Not much of a secret if you just told me.” 

“Yeah, well. Consider yourself lucky.” Richie said, sticking a hand in Eddie's hair and giving it a quick ruffle before yanking it back to avoid a slap to the wrist. “Sorry to interrupt your angsty bonding session with this tree here, but it seems my friends have all jumped the Richie ship for today and I am in desperate need of some companionship.” 

“So, you came here? Lucky me.” Eddie’s tone was hard and monotone, but his eyes had a softness in them that gave him away. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Richie’s part. “And _please_ don’t call me ‘angsty.’” 

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Edward. But I feel that we’ve gotten pretty close over these past few days. And yet, I still know next to nothing about you!” 

“I think that’s already more than enough.” Eddie said, kicking Richie’s shin lightly. “And it’s _Eddie_ , asshole.” 

“Now, now my dear Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie held up a finger to the other boy’s mouth, halting the inevitable protest ready to spill out. “I’m going to go through a list of the things I know about you so far, so you can feel free to tack on any missing details. _First_ ,” he stuck the finger not currently on Eddie’s mouth high in the air, continuing: “you were originally born in Derry, Maine before marking an escape at the ripe age of…. what was it? Four?”

A second finger popped up to join the first. “ _Second_ , you and your dad have run your humble bed and breakfast here ever since, lovingly named ‘The Flying Turtle’ after some endearing fantasy you had as a child, one that still doesn’t really make sense to me, probably because it requires a level of logic only present in the mind of a toddler. _Third_ , you have a knack for baking. Learned that all on my own this morning, by the way. No thanks to you.” 

By this point in Richie’s speech, Eddie’s eyes seemed to be stuck in a constant state of rolling. Upon closer observation, however, it was easy to see that he was also battling a smile, his ears reddening, so Richie took that as a sign to keep going. 

“ _Fourth,_ you’re very into running, have been ever since you were a teenager. A healthy hobby that contributes to your nice, shapely calves. And _fifth,_ your dream is to run away to New York and go to college to become some badass human rights lawyer. A goal I fully support, by the way, especially if it comes to fruition in the next two years, while I’m still at NYU.” 

Eddie had started groaning quietly at the bit about jogging and calves, and the sound only continued to grow in volume by the time Richie finally shut his mouth and put his fingers down. 

“Oh my goddd,” Eddie said, putting a hand on Richie’s leering face to push him away before he could lean any closer. “I think that’s it. The full picture, you got me 100% figured out, great job.”

Richie leaned back, laughing lightly. “Yeah, right. Come on, Ed’s. Tell me just one thing! One _factoid_ about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“Ugh, fine, you spaz. Let’s see…” Eddie looked over at Richie, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, quiet for a moment before whispering: “I’m… gay?”

“I said something I don’t know, smartass.” Richie said, flicking Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Fine! Fine...” Eddie leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree, looking away from Richie to stare upward at the sky, watching the large, white clouds overhead float lazily by. “My mom… You know my mom still lives in Derry, right?”

Richie nodded, his smile dropping as Eddie’s voice took on a much more serious tone. “Yeah, uh, Beverly told me.” 

“Well, I don’t remember a ton about her, since I was so young when we moved, but…” Eddie continued to stare straight upward, his hands fidgeting absentmindedly from their spot on his lap. “She had, or has, I guess, this condition. Called Munchausen’s? Which I never realized was a thing until me and my dad talked about it a few years ago.”

Eddie looked over at Richie, quickly looking away when the other boy gave a small nod to confirm he was still listening. “But anyways, she would always act like I was sick as a kid when I wasn’t really. She would see symptoms that weren’t really there and over exaggerate the ones that did pop up, to the point where if I would so much sneeze or cough it would end up in a trip to the emergency room. She got doctors to give me a bunch of different diagnoses and fake medications for things I didn’t have. I was convinced I had asthma for years after we moved, until my dad found me a therapist who finally talked me through it.”

Eddie stopped talking again at this point, the quiet between the two quickly stretching to a point where Richie felt he had an obligation to break it.

“Damn, Eddie… I had no idea.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to startle Eddie away from his staring-contest with the sky, his head shooting down to look at his hand curled together on his lap.

“Like I said,” he said, absently picking at one of his fingernails. “I don’t remember a lot of it. My dad said it’s one of the main reasons behind the divorce, though. I should be glad, I guess. That we left so early. I can only imagine how fucked up I would be if I had to live with her any longer than I did.”

Eddie seemed like he was going to continue rambling, before his shoulders squared and his mouth clamped shut. The silence started to spread around them once again, the distant sounds of waves and seagulls growing steadily louder until Eddie suddenly spun towards him, eyebrows furrowed as he shattered the quiet, saying “Alright, so I give you your one ‘factoid’ and you’re not even gonna fucking say anything? What, do you just get off on forcing periods of emotional vulnerability out of people? _You dick_.” Each sentence was punctuated with a bony finger poking Richie sharply in the chest. 

The sudden emotional whiplash, along with the pain in his ribs, jarred a surprised laugh out of Richie’s mouth. A laughter that only continued to grow in volume the more comically (and obviously insincerely) offended Eddie’s face grew. Finally, his chuckles petering out and his chest growing warmer, he rested his cheek on one knee, staring over at Eddie with a soft smile on his face.

“Thanks for that, Eds.” He said softly, his voice more sincere than he was used to it being. “I really do appreciate you sharing that with me.”

“Yeah, well. You’re welcome.” Eddie looked like he desperately wanted to break eye contact, but he held strong, portraying a resolute confidence that was only slightly depreciated by the pink color quickly taking over his face. “I’m a real fucking philanthropist, I guess.” 

After a moment of squirming uncomfortably, Eddie finally stood up, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket and kicking at the grass for a moment before looking back down at Richie. 

“Hey, you want to go somewhere else?” 

___________________________________

About ten minutes later, Richie found himself walking into a much larger clearing, in a place that looked much more like the “park” he had originally been imagining. The entire thing was encircled with trees and bushes aplenty, with a modest-sized lake in the middle currently being inhabited by a family of ducks. There were also more people here, walking or jogging, with kids playing at the jungle gym off to one side. 

Upon hitting the entrance Eddie made a beeline to the nearby swing set, currently uninhabited. 

Richie finished making his way over as Eddie plopped down on one of the seats, pumping his legs a few times to get moving. 

“A swing set, huh? Is this where you bring all the nubile young men you’re trying to seduce?”

“Not seducing you.” Eddie said, letting his legs dangle in the wind for a moment as he swung lazily back and forth. “If I was, I would have taken you to the abandoned train tracks in the creepy part of the woods. Now _that_ spot is downright raunchy.” 

“Eds, you _dog.”_ Richie sat in the other seat, immediately twisting it sideways to watch Eddie as he climbed higher and higher into the air. 

“Y’know, it’s kind of hypocritical to push me to talk about myself when you’re even more of a closed book than I am.”

Richie let out an immediate, barking laugh, attempting (and failing) to stifle it with a closed fist when Eddie glanced down to glare in his direction.

“Sorry, I’ve just never had anybody call me a ‘closed book’ before.“

“No, you talk a lot, but very little of it’s of substance.” Eddie didn’t pause to take a breath, not allowing Richie enough time to even gasp in offense. “Here’s the list of things _I_ know about _you_ : One, you grew up in Derry and then went to New York to study music theory. Two, you have a habit of doing some real hit-or-miss accents when you talk. Three, you’re super annoying and a kind of pervy on first impression.”

“Implying you think I’m less annoying now?”

“Four, you only get more annoying with time.”

“ _Rude_.” 

“And… I mean, that’s pretty much it. So yeah, like I said, closed book.” 

Richie smiled, looking down and twisting his seat back and forth absently. “Ok, fine. Your turn, Eds. Pick a topic, any topic. This is your opportunity to delve deep into the trauma that was my adolescence.”

“Yeah ok, Beverly said something about a clown?” 

Richie let out a bitter laugh, so sudden and forceful that it stung a bit on the way out. “Uh, yeah. That’s a story for another time, though. Maybe when I have more illicit substances in my system.”

“Ok, ok. So, something else then. What about… your parents?” 

“Oh… my parents? What, are you planning on meeting them then? So soon in our relationship?” 

“Fuck off.” Eddie tucked his chin towards his chest, attempting to hide the small smile flitting across his face in his shirt collar.

“Ok, well…” Richie continued to stare down at the ground, kicking his feet absently as his tone turned significantly more serious. “Me and my parents didn’t really… get along when I was growing up. Which I had assumed was normal for a kid, you know? Except I’ve discovered more recently that the levels of indifference going on in that household bordered on neglect.” Richie let out a low laugh that would have been almost convincing if his eyes hadn’t begun to look so dim. “I think I exhausted them, which was fair. I mean, I was a pretty shitty kid. Getting in trouble all the time, cracking bad jokes at the most inoppurtune times. Any parent in their right mind would’ve gotten sick of me eventually.” 

Richie finally looked up to see Eddie staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed in a way that indicated a million possible things to say were currently running through his head, but all that ended up coming out was: “I’m sorry, Richie.” 

“No, no, it’s fine! It’s better now, between us, I mean. Has been ever since I moved away. Now we actually have conversations, at least over the phone. The distance is good for us, I think.” 

Eddie nodded, his mouth a thin line that made his uncertainty in Richie’s statement clear as day.

“Really! A little bit of separation does wonders for a relationship, it’s crazy.” Richie leaned back, letting his feet dangle up as he tilted his face up to watch the clouds float by. “And this isn't to say I really need their approval to validate my life, because I fully grew past that phase in high school. But... it is still nice to have them in my life, you know?”

“...Yeah.” 

Richie didn’t turn to look at him, but he noticed the other boy’s shoulders droop from the corner of his eye. 

“Your dad seems like a really good guy.” Richie said.

“Yeah, he is.” 

And with that, the two were quiet once again. After a few moments had passed, the clouds began to darken and the wind picked up a bit, sending many of the families surrounding the two boys packing up their things and leaving the park. Richie thought about saying something, but couldn’t quite find it in him to get his mouth moving.

He wouldn’t have even had the opportunity anyways, for both his and Eddie’s head shot up as they heard a male voice shouting and coming towards them. 

“Eddie! Hey!” 

The voice came from a tall young man, looking about the same age as the two of him. He looked very stereotypically jocky, with a short beach-blonde haircut and an ensemble consisting of a pair of sweatpants, a college t-shirt, and an expensive-looking pair of sneakers. 

“Eddie… Kasbrat, right?”

“...Kaspbrak.” It took Eddie a moment to get the word out, his mouth hanging open and his eyebrows furrowed in confused disbelief. 

“Right, Kaspbrak. It’s Adam! Adam Clark, from high school?” “Yeah, Adam. I, uh, I remember you.” If the visible twitch in Eddie’s eye was anything to go off of, Richie figured he wasn’t remembering any good things. 

“Oh, cool!” ‘Adam’ didn’t seem to be picking up on the tension in the air, smiling brightly and stepping even closer to Eddie, completely ignoring Richie’s existence. 

“So… how are things?” Eddie spoke in an emotionless staccato, so monotone that Richie burst out into laughter, poorly masking it as a cough muffled into his shirt sleeve when the other two glanced in his direction. 

Adam was quick to look away. “Oh, great. I’m just in town for the weekend, visiting from San Francisco. I moved there, y’know. Started working at this social media start-up and it’s freakin’ awesome, dude! Little hard to balance that and school at the same time, but I’m making it work.”

“Right…” 

“So, how about you, dude? You in school now?” 

“No, I, uh, took time off to help my dad out with our B&B.” 

Richie hadn’t thought it possible for Eddie’s shoulders to hunch any further upwards, but the boy proved him wrong when Adam snorted out a surprised laugh.

“Oh, no shit! You guys still have that place? Impressive.” 

Richie would later reflect on the beauty of seeing in real time the exact moment Eddie’s thread of restraint snapped, his eye twitching and fists clenching.

“What the fuck-”

Eddie was unable to finish his sentence (to Richie’s mild disappointment), as a woman’s voice calling in the distance sent Adam’s head spinning back to look over his shoulder. 

“Oh, shit. Hey, Eddie, I gotta go.” He turned his head back around to look back at Eddie and Richie, already jogging backwards while he spoke. “Nice seeing you, dude. Hit me up if you’re ever in San Fran!” 

Richie and Eddie sat in silence as they watched the other boy run off. At least, silent aside from the steam Richie could practically hear whistling from Eddie’s ears in anger. 

“ _Wow_.” Richie said as soon as Adam was out of sight, twisting his seat sideways to stare at Eddie’s profile once again. “What a douchebag, huh?” 

Eddie looked over at him, squinting his eyes and opening his mouth as if to say something before he instead suddenly shoved his face into his hands and groaned.

“Uh,” Richie started talking again, raising his voice a little to be heard over Eddie’s groaning, which showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. “You wanna talk about it, bud?” 

Eddie finally stopped and looked up from his hands, which now reached up to ruffle his hair in frustration. “No. I just. I wanna go home.” 

Without waiting for a response, Eddie stood up and began stomping off in the direction of the B&B, Richie scrambling to stand up and catch up to his side. 

There was a silence between the two again, this one much more tense than the ones from before. Richie managed to withstand it for approximately two minutes before nervously shoving his hands in his pockets and tilting his head to the other boy, speaking as quietly as he could manage. 

“Now, Eds, not to sound like an overeager middle school counselor or anything, but I really think you would feel better if we talked about it.” 

“It, just, I-” Eddie threw his face into his hands, and stopped walking so suddenly that Richie nearly tripped over his feet in surprise. “That was humiliating.”

“Humiliating? Why?” Richie said, tilting his head in confusion. “Eddie, you don’t think you have something to prove to that guy, right?” 

“No! Of course not.” Eddie kept his hands over his face, peeking at Richie through the cracks in his fingers.

“Good, because he was a real d-” 

“I know! I know he’s a douchebag, but that makes it so much fucking worse! Don’t you get it? He moved, got a fancy career, and he’s doing all the stuff I always thought _I_ was gonna do. But I’m still _here_ , in the same spot, the same position I was in two years ago. With no indication of anything changing in the seeable fucking future.” Eddie’s hands finally moved from his face as he threw them up towards the sky in frustration. 

“Well, Eddie, if it’s so humiliating to still be here, then why don’t you leave? Come to New York! Get that degree you’ve always dreamed of. It’s not too late to apply.” Richie would later admit that the joy he experienced imagining Eddie in New York strongly counteracted his logic and ability to read the situation. 

“Don’t talk about it like it’s so damn easy-”

“Well, it is easy! Or it could be, Eddie. If you’d just sit your dad down and tell him what you really wanted, I’m sure he-” 

“Stop! Just stop, ok? You know what, Richie? I don’t get why you even care so much.” 

“What does that mean?” Richie said, arms crossing across his chest defensively. 

“I mean, you’re gonna be fucking gone in a week’s time, so why are you so invested? Why do you care what I do? You’re gonna leave and the two of us are going to go back to being complete strangers.” Richie’s arms dropped, but his eyebrows remained furrowed. 

“We won’t if you come to New York-”

“I’m not fucking going to New York, Richie! I’m gonna stay here and take care of my dad, and the inn, the same way I have for the past fucking sixteen years.” 

Eddie groaned in frustration, rubbing at his eyes with his hands, curled tight into fists. 

“You just don’t get it, Richie. Your parents were dicks, so you got to run away and not feel bad about it afterwards. I can’t do that, not to my dad! He’s been nothing but good to me. And…” Eddie’s fists unclenched suddenly, falling and hanging loosely at his sides. “Richie, he’s all I have.” 

Any anger that Richie had been experiencing instantly evaporated upon seeing the look that came across Eddie’s face, being replaced instead with an immense feeling of guilt. His mind went completely blank, the arguments that had been stirring replaced with a desperate desire to apologize, if only he could get his mouth to start moving. He ended up not having to say anything, though, since Eddie beat him to the punch. 

“Richie...” Eddie mumbled, his head drooping and his eyes not quite meeting Richie’s. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That wasn’t fair, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry too, Eds.” There was a lot more that Richie wanted to say, but the tightness in his chest prevented any more words from escaping.

The two stood for a moment, both looking equally miserable and not meeting the eyes of the other. 

“Eddie-”

“Let’s just… go back, ok? I’m tired.” 

Without waiting for a response, Eddie began walking, his shoulders a tight, tense line that clearly indicated that the discussion between the two was over. Richie paused for only a moment before following, feet dragging as the rain began to lightly fall, the dreary sky accurately reflecting his miserable mood. 

After a walk that felt like an eternity (though it was only about ten minutes in reality), the two reached the front steps to The Turtle. Eddie made his way to the entrance, pausing at the door to glance back at Richie, who was hanging back, still standing at the porch steps.

“You coming in?” 

Richie felt his hands twitching against his leg, wishing desperately for a cigarette. “Ah, no. I’m just gonna hang out here for a bit. Go ahead without me, Eds. See you in the morning?”

“Oh. Ok.” Eddie mumbled, pausing for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, but he quickly left with only a small, mumbled “Good night, Richie.”

Richie let out a heavy sigh, shooting a quick “SOS” text to Beverly before slumping down onto the top porch step. By the time Beverly emerged out the front door, sleepily clad in one of Ben’s hoodies and a pair of athletic shorts, Richie was curled up in a tight ball, his head buried in his folded arms. 

“Hey there, good looking.” She said, walking over to Richie and reaching down to ruffle his hair fondly before sitting down by his side.

Richie didn’t look over at Beverly, but did bring his head out of the crook of his arms in order to let it fall sideways to rest on her shoulder.

The two were quiet for a moment, the sound of rain pattering against the porch’s rain doing little to dull the roar in Richie’s head. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Beverly finally said after a few minutes had passed, lightly tapping a punch to Richie’s knee. “Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

Richie thought for a moment about not saying anything, pretending everything was fine between the two boys and that there was still hope for his love life after all. However, one glance at Beverly’s eyes, comforting and inviting vulnerability, changed his mind. 

“How could you let me fall for a boy that lives like sixteen hours away from New York.” He mumbled, shoving his face further into the crook of her neck. 

“Oh, Richie…” Beverly said, reaching up to pat Richie’s cheek softly, humming a sympathetic noise from the back of her throat.

It seemed there weren't any words of comfort that would work effectively in the situation, for Beverly didn’t say anything further, instead just running a comforting hand through Richie’s hair and staring quietly out at the rain. If Richie wasn’t so tired, he would have considered this silence to be an accurate reflection on the hopelessness of his situation. However, he was in fact, exhausted, so he instead let the sound of rainfall and comforting feel of Beverly’s hand in his hair turn his brain off, lulling him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I made a new fandom tumblr, if anyone wants to come chat! https://vfemme-me.tumblr.com/


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